Chapter Thirty-Four

Jedediah Brookes was sitting on the quarterdeck steps, chewing the end of his pipe, when he heard the first gunshot. It rang out over the flat sea with the precise crack of a soldier’s musket. He cast a sharp glance across the deck and found himself fixed by Shiner’s nervous stare. The second shot came a few moments later, another musket, and then a third and fourth – and those, he recognised. ‘Zach.’

Shiner unwound his gangly legs and climbed to his feet. ‘I know the sound of them pistols right enough,’ he said, scampering across the deck to lean out over the starboard rail. ‘Sounds like the captain’s in trouble, Mr Brookes.’

With a sigh, Brookes pushed himself to his feet. ‘When isn’t the captain in trouble?’

Shiner cocked his head. ‘Well, there was that time, three year ago, when—’

‘It was a rhetorical question,’ Brookes growled. His old bones weren’t suited to the cold and damp of the British Sea and they’d ached like the devil since they’d entered the North Atlantic three weeks ago. He felt like an old man as he stumped over to where Shiner was shivering and peering out into the gloomy evening. ‘About five or six miles east, I’d say,’ Brookes ventured, hearing no more gunshots. ‘Too close to Poole for my liking.’

With a sigh, he turned away from the rail. It seemed Zach had chosen to make a dash to the sea somewhat sooner than planned, far closer to the busy seaport and its Revenue men and navy frigates. Too close for the Hawk to venture safely, especially in these troubled days. Zach would have to make his way west, into less perilous waters.

Brookes pulled his flask from his coat pocket and took a swig of rum, but its fierce burn wasn’t enough to warm him.

‘D’you think they got him?’ Shiner asked fearfully. ‘I don’t hear no more shots.’

Brookes wiped his mouth on the back of his hand and put the flask away. There was a time when he’d have laughed at the notion – Captain Zach Hazard wasn’t likely to be captured by a handful of redcoats – but the world was a different place now and Zach Hazard had become a different man these past years; Brookes wasn’t entirely convinced he’d want to get away if it meant leaving her behind. ‘We stick to the plan and wait for the signal,’ was all he said, and prayed they’d not be left waiting forever.

Though she didn’t recognise the sailors who manned the longboat, the Serpent was just as Amelia remembered her: sleek, well ordered, her brass fittings bright in the lamplight. Like her master, the Serpent was always immaculate.

Amelia, though, climbed the ladder onto the deck without seeing anything of her glory. Her mind’s eye was focussed still on Zach, standing on the foreshore, coat caught by the winter wind, whipping out behind him as he watched her leave.

A gunshot rang out from the beach and she spun so fast she almost lost her footing. Another shot, the flash of a musket barrel in the dark. She strained her eyes, but could see nothing more. It was too dark.

Sick with loss and fear, she had to stop for a moment, clinging to the ship’s rail for support as she gathered her strength. Duty. She clung to that, too, as surely as she clung to the rail. She could not abandon her duty to Ile Sainte Anne, to the Articles, and to her father’s legacy.

As much as she might want— No, she would not think about it. That was done. Her choice had been made and so had his. Zach would not return to Ile Sainte Anne, and she would not abandon it. Fate marked two paths and they had each chosen to walk a different one. She would not regret or repent.

Taking a deep breath, she straightened her shoulders, let go of the rail, and turned to face her husband’s crew. She couldn’t see his first mate, so addressed one of the men who’d fetched her in the longboat. ‘Où est le capitaine Géroux?’

The man smiled, an unpleasant expression, and said in native English, ‘You’ll find him below, miss.’

His accent was educated, surprising given his ragged appearance. Surprising too among Luc’s French crew. Her hand found its way to the pistol tucked into her belt – Zach’s weapon. ‘Take me to him, then.’

‘Delighted,’ said the crewman, and gestured towards the steps that led down to Luc’s cabin.

The hair rose on the back of her neck as she began to walk, eyes watching her from the darkness. She licked her lips, kept her hand on her weapon, and told herself it was ridiculous to be uneasy aboard Luc’s ship. He was her husband, was he not?

The deck below was dark, only the light creeping out from around the edges of the cabin door provided any guidance, but she knew this ship well and in a few steps she was at his door, pushing it open. ‘Luc.’

He turned around with a start. ‘Amelia.’ His face was white, his expression more akin to horror than joy.

‘What is it?’ she said immediately. ‘What’s happened?’

‘I …’ He took a step closer and she noticed his crumpled clothing, the ashy circles beneath his eyes. ‘Amelia, I’m so sorry.’

‘Good God, what’s happened?’ Her first horrified thought was of Zach – he’d been killed on the beach. ‘Tell me at once!’

‘Forgive me, I had no choice.’

She opened her mouth to speak, but the hard press of a gun at her back cut off her words. ‘Captain Dauphin,’ said a familiar, loathed voice. ‘How kind of you to join us.’

Luc turned away, unable to look at her.

‘It’s unnatural still,’ Shiner said, glancing up at a clear sky awash with northern stars. ‘Do you feel Neptune’s hand in it?’

Brookes sniffed and pulled his coat tighter. ‘Not in these waters, lad. There’s other creatures what rule these chilly depths, if you believe the stories.’

‘What stories?’ Shiner blinked worriedly. ‘What stories, Mr Brookes?’

‘Well, they do say, King Llŷr rules these seas – and a terrible king he is, too, so old it seems his face is carved of driftwood, his hair floating out like tangled seaweed. When he’s in a rage the seas boil, but when he’s calm …’ Brookes gestured about him.

‘Boil?’ Shiner repeated.

‘Aye, and he has himself a daughter – the fairest you ever did see – sent to lure unsuspecting sailors to their death at her father’s hands.’ He glanced back towards the land. ‘No doubt possessed of near-black hair and a fiery spirit, with a habit of dressing like a lad and putting her nose where it don’t belong.’

Shiner blinked. ‘Like the sirens luring sailors onto the rocks.’

‘Aye, something like that.’ Brookes sighed and stumped to his feet. ‘Or onto land.’ He looked out, towards the black cliffs. ‘Come on, Zach, where are you?’

After a while Shiner said, ‘Perhaps he sailed with the Serpent, back to Ile Sainte Anne?’

Brookes slid him a sceptical look. ‘He’ll not go back there. Turned his back on all that, didn’t he?’

‘I’m thinking, Mr Brookes, that if he’d turned his back on it we wouldn’t be sittin’ here freezin’ to death.’

It was a good point, Brookes was forced to concede. ‘He’d not abandon the Hawk,’ he insisted, turning back to stare at the shore once more. ‘Nor his crew. If he don’t come back, it’s because he can’t.’

He said no more than that, couldn’t bear to think of what that might mean.

Lord Morton.

He sat in the captain’s chair, hands clasped over his belly, smug and self-satisfied. Amelia loathed him with every bone in her body. The only slight satisfaction she felt in seeing him again was the jagged scar across his cheek, left by the blade she’d wielded the day she’d first landed in London.

Her fingers itched for a weapon now, to finish what she’d started.

‘Isn’t this charming?’ Morton said. ‘A husband reunited with his wife. Delightful.’

Luc said nothing, standing to one side of the desk with his face set like stone. Amy spared him a single glance; whatever his motives for this betrayal, she’d not discuss them in front of Morton. ‘What do you want?’ she said instead. ‘If you think to set a trap for Zach then you have the wrong bait.’

‘Zach Hazard?’ His faux surprise revolted her. ‘Did you not hear the gunfire? My dear, Captain Hazard is already dead.’

Horror clamped in her gut, but she kept her face immobile and said only, ‘So you say.’

‘See the body if you wish. I’ll have it tarred and gibbeted in Wapping until it rots. Alongside your own, in due course.’

Lies. It was lies. It had to be. Gritting her teeth, she turned her gaze once more on Luc to see if she could read the truth in his face, but he would not look at her. She’d never seen a man more crushed by guilt. She could almost pity him.

‘No,’ Morton said, rising with effort and strolling closer. ‘It’s not Hazard I want, Miss Dauphin; it’s you.’ His warm breath washed over her face, making her turn away in disgust. He laughed. ‘Oh don’t worry, I’ve higher standards than that. I’ve no desire to strum a common street whore.’ He leaned closer, lowered his voice. ‘It’s what’s in your head that interests me, not what lies between your legs.’ When she said nothing, he added, ‘The location of a book. A scurrilous book.’

‘The Articles of Agreement?’ The mere mention of it brought her father to mind and she faced Morton with renewed defiance. ‘That is what you want from me? I don’t have it. It’s not here.’

‘Obviously.’ He moved away, circling the table and exchanging a look with Luc. ‘I understand that this book, these Articles of Agreement, are hidden on Ile Sainte Anne – and that only you know where to find them.’

Luc hung his head still further, fingers clenching into fists. His lips moved in silent apology, but Amelia had to look away, so hot was her anger. To have betrayed that to this man! Every other treachery paled in comparison – Luc had betrayed everything upon which her life was built.

Voice shaking with rage, she said, ‘My father died to protect the Articles and the freedom they represent. So did Captain Overton and a hundred other good men. Do you think I could ever betray their memories?’ She squared her shoulders, finding strength in her certainty. ‘Do what you like to me, but I will never tell you how to find the Articles.’

‘Yes,’ Morton sighed, ‘I thought you might say as much.’ He signalled over her shoulder and from behind her another man stepped forward. Tall and brutish, he wore a stained leather apron and stank of blood and despair. ‘Tonight we sail for Ile Sainte Anne,’ Morton said. ‘Mr Crouch, take her below and make her talk before we dock.’

An iron fist closed about her arm, pulling her towards the door. Weak-kneed with terror, she recoiled. ‘No. Please …’

‘Mon Dieu!’ Luc burst out. ‘Please, Amelia, just tell him where to find the book!’

She stared at him, at his grey face crushed by remorse and fear, and in his weakness she found her strength. She stopped struggling and in a firm voice said, ‘I’d rather die.’

‘How fortunate.’ Morton gave an ugly smile. ‘For that is your only other option.’

Three hours passed, the moon had long since set, and the night was black as pitch and cold as the devil. Brookes blew on his hands, but there was little warmth to be had as he leaned against the rail and scoured the cliffs for any sign of Zach.

Some of the crew whispered that he’d sailed with the Serpent or been felled by the Revenue men, or by those in pursuit of Amelia Dauphin. But not Brookes. He’d known Zach too long – seen him dead-drunk and dead-dead – and knew that he’d not give up his life so cheaply. If the noose could not claim him, then nothing could. So said Jedediah Brookes.

That’s why, when he saw the flicker of light on the beach, he was relieved, but not surprised. ‘There!’ he said softly, touching the sleeve of Shiner’s coat. ‘Do you see?’

Rubbing his eyes, Shiner peered into the night and for a moment they both held their breath. It came again, a flame – bright, and then gone. Bright, and then gone. A lantern or a burning torch.

Brookes grinned. ‘That’s it, that’s Zach’s signal.’

‘He made it!’ Shiner laughed. ‘Captain Hazard made it!’

‘Shhh, now,’ Brookes scolded, glancing about as if he might see the navy board-a-board. ‘Don’t know who’s in these waters tonight, eh? Go, quietly now, and lower a longboat. Fetch the captain.’

With a quick bob of his head, Shiner scampered off and Brookes heard him gathering someone to help him row ashore.

From the land, the light came again – bright, and then gone. Bright, and then gone. Stooping, Brookes picked up the dark lantern he’d kept at his feet all night. Lifting it high, he slid back the panel for a count of ten and closed it again. He did it twice more and then the light on the beach disappeared and Brookes doused the lantern; Zach knew they were on their way.

Yet it seemed a cold eternity before Brookes heard the soft splash of oars that heralded the longboat’s return. With hushed voices the boat was tied up, and from the darkness Zach Hazard emerged. Bereft of his usual swagger, he looked a different man as he climbed the ladder to the deck.

‘Zach,’ Brookes said, grasping his hand to help him the final few steps. ‘Glad to see you in one piece.’

‘More or less,’ Zach agreed, looking about him as if surprised to be there at all. ‘Have you had any trouble?’

‘Only dragging Shiner out of the Wink at Lamorna, Captain. We stayed westerly, you see, though it’s less friendly even down there than I’d like. Bloody Revenue men everywhere.’

‘It’s less friendly everywhere in this poxy country, Brookes. It’s less friendly in the whole wide world.’

‘So it is, Captain.’ Brookes paused, catching Shiner’s eye as he clambered back aboard. ‘That being as it may, Zach, the crew and I was wondering what our heading might be – now that you’ve settled your business here.’ But from Zach’s morose demeanour Brookes feared that the business wasn’t settled at all, and with a sigh he said, ‘Talking of which, where is Miss Dauphin?’

‘Safe with her husband,’ Zach said, turning towards his cabin. ‘Sailing back to Ile Sainte Anne. Plans to rebuild it herself or some such nonsense.’

‘And what of our course?’ Brookes persisted, following. ‘Where do we sail now, Zach?’

He stopped abruptly, head bowed as if he studied the deck. After a while, and in a flat voice, he said, ‘In truth, Mr Brookes, I have no bloody idea. Take us somewhere warmer.’

‘Warmer?’

‘I’m cold, Brookes, and tired of it. Tired of it all.’ With that, he pushed his way into his cabin and slammed shut the door.

Slowly, Shiner moved to stand at Brookes’ side as all around them the crew exchanged uncertain glances. ‘I’d say Old King Llŷr’s daughter has him fair wrecked, Mr Brookes.’

‘Aye, so she has.’ He sighed and looked over at the rangy crewman, seeing more understanding than he’d expected in his narrow features. ‘Ain’t just her, though, is it? There’s no room left in this new world for the likes of us. No room at all.’